SCENE IV.

The fame. Another part of the same.

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, BIGOT, and Others.

Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends.
Pemb. Up once again; put spirit in the French ;
If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

Sal. That mifbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

Pemb. They fay, king John, fore fick, hath left the field.

Enter MELUN wounded, and led by Soldiers.

Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.
Sal. When we were happy, we had other names.
Pemb. It is the count Melun.

Sal.

Wounded to death.

Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought and fold; Unthread the rude eye of rebellion,

And welcome home again discarded faith.

Seek out king John, and fall before his feet;
For, if the French be lords of this loud day,
He means to recompense the pains you take,
By cutting off your heads: Thus hath he fworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury;
Even on that altar, where we swore to you
Dear amity and everlasting love.

Sal. May this be poffible! may this be true!
Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,
Retaining but a quantity of life;

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax
Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire?

What in the world should make me now deceive,
Since I muft lofe the use of all deceit ?

Why should I then be false; fince it is true
That I must die here, and live hence by truth?
I fay again, if Lewis do win the day,

He is forfworn, if e'er those eyes of yours
Behold another day break in the east:

But even this night,-whose black contagious breath
Already smokes about the burning crest

Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied fun,-
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire;
Paying the fine of rated treachery,

Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,
If Lewis by your affistance win the day.
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king;
The love of him,—and this respect besides,
For that my grandfire was an Englishman,-
Awakes my conscience to confess all this.
In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence
From forth the noise and rumour of the field;
Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts
In peace, and part this body and my foul
With conteniplation and devout defires.

Sal. We do believe thee,-And bethrew my foul But I do love the favour and the form

Of this moft fair occafion, by the which
We will untread the steps of damned flight;
And, like a bated and retired flood,

Leaving our rankness and irregular course,

Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, And calmly run on in obedience,

Even to our ocean, to our great king John.

My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence ;

For I do fee the cruel pangs of death

Right in thine eye.-Away, my friends! New flight;
And happy newness, that intends old right.

[Exeunt, leading off MELUN.

SCENE V.

The fame. The French Camp.

Enter LEWIS, and his Train.

Lew. The fun of heaven, methought, was loth to fet ;
But ftay'd, and made the western welkin blush

When the English measur'd backward their own ground,
In faint retire: O, bravely came we off,
When with a volley of our needless shot,
After fuch bloody toil, we bid good night;
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up,
Laft in the field, and almost lords of it!-

Enter a Meffenger.

Me. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ?

Lew.

Here:-What news?

Me. The count Melun is flain; the English lords,

By his perfuafion, are again fallen off:

And your fupply, which you have wish'd fo long,
Are caft away, and funk, on Goodwin fands.

Lew. Ah, foul fhrewd news!-Befhrew thy very heart!

I did not think to be fo fad to-night,

As this hath made me.-Who was he, that faid,
King John did fly, an hour or two before

The tumbling night did part our weary powers?

Meff.

Mef. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.

Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to-night: The day shall not be up fo foon as I,

To try the fair adventure of to-morrow.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI.

An open place in the neighbourhood of Swinftead-Abbey.

Enter the Bastard, and HUBERT, meeting.

Hub. Who's there? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I shoot. Baft. A friend :-What art thou?

Hub.

Baft. Whither dost thou go?

Of the part of England.

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand

Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?

Baft. Hubert, I think.

Hub.

Thou haft a perfect thought:

I will, upon all hazards, well believe

Thou art my friend that know'ft my tongue so well:
Who art thou?

Baft.

Who thou wilt: an if thou please, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think

I come one way of the Plantagenets.

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyelefs night, Have done me fhame :-Brave foldier, pardon me, That any accent, breaking from thy tongue,

Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear.

Baft. Come, come; fans compliment, what news abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out.

Baft.

Brief, then; and what's the news?
G 3

Hub. O, my fweet fir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Baft. Show me the very wound of this ill news;
I am no woman, I'll not fwoon at it.

Hub. The king. I fear, is poifon'd by a monk :
I left him almost speechlefs, and broke out
To acquaint you with this evil; that you might
The better arm you to the sudden time,

Than if you had at leisure known of this.

Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him ?
Hab. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
Whofe bowels fuddenly burft out: the king
Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.

Baft. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty?
Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come back,
And brought prince Henry in their company;

At whofe request the king hath pardon'd them,
And they are all about his majesty.

Baft. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven,
And tempt us not to bear above our power!—
I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night,
Paffing these flats, are taken by the tide,
Thefe Lincoln washes have devoured them;
My felf, well-mounted, hardly have escap'd.
Away, before! conduct me to the king;
I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come.

[Exeunt.

SCENE